


our grief to share

by kemonomimi



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 03:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18241031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kemonomimi/pseuds/kemonomimi
Summary: & our burden to bear. aymeric and estinien are on equal footing.





	our grief to share

**Author's Note:**

> “With my burned hand, I write about the nature of fire.” ― Gustave Flaubert

The floral scent is still clinging to his hair when he pulls himself out of the icy snow and into the warm, fireplace-lit room. The figure standing in front of the flames, just safely out of reach from the fiery tongues as they lap across a bundle of tightly bound wood, is of a familiar cut, even with the heavy wool-lined coat masking most of it.

“Where did you go?” The question is soft, barely a whisper over the crackling fire. It isn’t accusatory or broken, but it makes Estinien steel his shoulders anyway in preparation for an attack he knows won’t come.

“Had to finish something.” It’s not really an answer, but the soft blue eyes cast his way assures him that Aymeric knew anyway; he always does, doesn’t he?

“Your flowers are as much a monument as anything Ishgard could offer,” he assuages. Estinien can still see the bouquet perched on the edge of allagan steel if he blinks too hard.

“It’s not a tombstone,” he mutters, but regrets it when he sees Aymeric’s eyes shine momentarily in the light. Rather than apologize for a careless remark, he stands beside his friend and allows their shoulders to bump comfortingly.

“Just as well,” Aymeric finally concludes, after he swallows down a hard breath.

Silence settles between the two survivors comfortably as they both stare into the fire for answers no one else can provide. But even amongst the flames there is no explanation and no gentle words.

“I felt them both there, on the bridge.” He clears this throat, voice rough with emotion of which he is not ready to face the brute force – not again so soon, after leaving his offering to a companion Ishgard cannot afford to celebrate.

After a moment of absolute stillness: “I am not surprised.” Aymeric rubs his hands together near the heat, fidgeting and seeking a distraction lest his narrowed, calculative ice blue eyes gloss over again. Estinien thinks the conversation is being abandoned, but Aymeric picks it up with a soft sigh. “I am not sure what I would have done, had I lost another dear friend that day.” He told himself before, when he shot that arrow aimed to pierce through Estinien’s very core, that he could do it to protect Ishgard. Had he been forced to draw his bow again, he wonders if the arrow would have flown true.

The emotion the stirred by the soft admission makes Estinien irritable. He puts a hand on the Lord Commander’s shoulder and shakes it once, hard. “You would have done anything needed from you,” Estinien asserts.

Aymeric laughs, a gentle tinkling sound too soft to compare to the quick smiles and warm chuckles to which Estinien is familiar. “You have much faith in me.”

“It has nothing to do with faith.” The toe of Estinien’s boot kicks at the corner of the ornate rug beneath them, awkward and vulnerable. When he glances up again, blue eyes are still watching him in a way that make his insides squirm. Estinien withdraws physically, breaking their point of contact, but Aymeric shifts to let their shoulders brush together once more.

“What will you do now?” Aymeric’s gaze as returned to the fire, as if it holds the answer. Estinien frown and shakes his head, platinum hair spilling briefly over their touching shoulders.

“There is still work to do.”

“Ah, so you are departing from Ishgard again.”

Estinien’s brows furrow, but he nods. He has to finish the work she started. He expects Aymeric to deliberate or ask him to stay, but the brunet only shakes his head slowly.  


“Do not be a stranger, Estinien.” At his look, they lean together until foreheads touch. The distance is intimate and sacred, more so than any prayer Estinien ever uttered in his lifetime.  


It’s too soon to do more than that. Their emotional wounds too deep to ignite passion. But in that touch there is a promise, words unspoken. Estinien finds comfort in that touch, and does not bother himself with the specifics.

Not now. Someday. Someday he will return to Ishgard and stand at Aymeric’s side again.

**Author's Note:**

> A gift, for a gift.
> 
> Takes place after Post-Heavensward content, but before Stormblood content.
> 
> I'm Yhul Qalli on Siren; come say hi when world visitation drops.


End file.
